Everyone remembers the horse who taught them how to ride. Yes, it is the horse that teaches us, as much as the trainer, for when you do things right, the horse moves as you wish and when you do not....
While we learn to ride we sit off balance, we squeeze, we pull, we grab, we give conflicting aids, and we tumble off. We wonder why we don’t turn left when we are clearly bent ourselves to the right. We find ourselves ahead of the motion, behind the motion, or on top of the motion. Sometimes we are very little people who, although totally out of sync with the motion, cause little disturbance to the majestic being below us. But sometimes we are large and like unstable sacks of potatoes we burden our horse as we struggle to find balance and feel. Our coaches say “Did you feel that?” Sometimes we say yes because we WANT to feel it and we hope that saying it may help to make it so. Thankfully the horse does not correct us when we lie as we yell “yes” trotting merrily along, not feeling anything, but hoping so much that we will. He knows the truth and keeps silent, knowing that someday we will get the feel.
Horses are patient. They are kind. They are forgiving. School horses are particularly so.
It is with great sadness that I write of the passing of one of my favourite school horses. Luke, Ann’s retired Hanoverian school horse passed away this last week while enjoying a wonderful and peaceful retirement with Janet, Bruce and their family.
Luke was amazing in every way. He had a wonderful warm and gentle personality, so tolerant of beginning riders and ridiculous talented when ridden by a more experienced rider. His trot lifted you with every stride, his canter was smooth and easy and no one failed to marvel at how he could lengthen his stride! We loved Luke for the wonderful horse he was. Everyone fell in love with him immediately. And everyone who learned to ride with him (and there are many of us!) has a wonderful story to recall.
While we learn to ride we sit off balance, we squeeze, we pull, we grab, we give conflicting aids, and we tumble off. We wonder why we don’t turn left when we are clearly bent ourselves to the right. We find ourselves ahead of the motion, behind the motion, or on top of the motion. Sometimes we are very little people who, although totally out of sync with the motion, cause little disturbance to the majestic being below us. But sometimes we are large and like unstable sacks of potatoes we burden our horse as we struggle to find balance and feel. Our coaches say “Did you feel that?” Sometimes we say yes because we WANT to feel it and we hope that saying it may help to make it so. Thankfully the horse does not correct us when we lie as we yell “yes” trotting merrily along, not feeling anything, but hoping so much that we will. He knows the truth and keeps silent, knowing that someday we will get the feel.
Horses are patient. They are kind. They are forgiving. School horses are particularly so.
It is with great sadness that I write of the passing of one of my favourite school horses. Luke, Ann’s retired Hanoverian school horse passed away this last week while enjoying a wonderful and peaceful retirement with Janet, Bruce and their family.
Luke was amazing in every way. He had a wonderful warm and gentle personality, so tolerant of beginning riders and ridiculous talented when ridden by a more experienced rider. His trot lifted you with every stride, his canter was smooth and easy and no one failed to marvel at how he could lengthen his stride! We loved Luke for the wonderful horse he was. Everyone fell in love with him immediately. And everyone who learned to ride with him (and there are many of us!) has a wonderful story to recall.
God Bless You, Lucius, as you have blessed us all.
Rocket to heaven, my friend!!! And give Ace a big hug from me.
Rocket to heaven, my friend!!! And give Ace a big hug from me.